Halfway There
by serenitymeimei
Summary: It was nothing more than a whisper, a confession that was never supposed to see the light of day... Set sometime mid-late S3.


Warmth.

All Helena could feel was heat and softness and a sense of security that left her toeing that dangerous line between maudlin and carefree before she could think to do otherwise. Her mind floated up slowly from the depths of darkness, feeling the first hints of consciousness, actual awareness of her surroundings, that she'd experienced in just over four months. It was disorienting, like being wrecked at sea, sore from hours of pointless swimming toward a phantom shore, left to float on your back and pray that you were found before the waves took you to a watery grave. But, as feeling gradually crept back into her numb limbs, she found that she really had no need to worry at all.

The sheets beneath her were of high quality, like silk, and definitely not the scratchy material that she'd felt as they stuffed her into her cell and she faded into a drug induced haze. She could feel the sun against her back, it's heat soothing her wayward soul like a minty balm, and luxuriated in the way that her muscles felt pleasantly loose and relaxed.

Something was out of place, though. It niggled at her sluggish brain like the slow drip of a leaky faucet. Her fingers twitched, noticing for the first time that her arm was wrapped around a warm body, her hand resting on the soft skin of a woman's stomach, a long back pressed against her front.

She froze.

Helena's eyes popped open, squinting against the bright, midmorning light. Her gaze traveled over the person in front of her, not daring to move and chance breaking the fragile spell wrapped around them. The woman's body felt vaguely familiar, like she should already know her identity, and after taking a deep breath she realized exactly why.

Myka.

Her lashes fluttered shut, gasping softly as her heart skipped a beat. How many times had she prayed for this? For a chance, a single moment where her past didn't matter and their flirty banter and tentative touches ended with her holding Myka in her arms. She'd spent far too many nights after her return to the warehouse wondering what it would be like to kiss her, to sneak down the hallway and slip into her room and then into her bed, savoring the human contact and trust that she'd taken for granted before she'd been bronzed.

Melting into the bed, Helena tightened her grip the tiniest bit, burrowing into Myka's newly tamed mass of hair. She longed to lay there forever, to fall back to sleep and spend the next week lounging in that very spot. It was heavenly. But, she knew that it wouldn't last, the calm would inevitably break and all hell would break loose. There'd be yelling and accusations, and Artie would almost certainly knock her unconscious until the proper authorities arrived. They would all act first and ask questions later and she couldn't blame them, she deserved it after what she put them through, but that didn't mean she was looking forward to it.

Downstairs, she heard the familiar sound of Leena shuffling around in the kitchen readying breakfast for her patchwork family. Judging by how high the sun already was in the sky it was most likely Saturday or Sunday, the only two days that the B&B owner allowed them to sleep in past seven o'clock in the morning, and for that she was grateful. That meant that she was already living on borrowed time and she was going to cling to every single second she could get, because she knew that she likely wouldn't get another chance for quite some time.

Nearly ten, blissful minutes passed, of which she spent drawing absentminded circles just below Myka's bellybutton with her fingertips, before she began showing signs of life. Her breathing pattern changed first, followed by a few lazy stretches that had Helena biting her lip, and the sound of a delightfully adorable yawn that left a grin on her face. The moment that Myka realized she wasn't alone though, her body tensed, causing dread to brew deep in the pit of her stomach. Was she ready for this?

Before Helena could so much as open her mouth to say something, anything, Myka had sprung out of her arms and was staring at her with wide eyes and a slackened jaw on the edge of the bed, "H.G.? What in the _hell _are you doing here? How did you get out?"

Looking shamefully down at the sheets, she sat up, "I don't suppose you'd believe me if I said that I didn't know, and that when I woke up I found myself here?"

Myka frowned.

"No, I didn't think so."

"Please tell me that you didn't break out somehow," she begged, anger vibrating and crackling through the air as she shook her head and stood, heading toward the door, "You know what, never mind! I'm going to get Artie so we can ask Mrs. Frederick about this. I seriously doubt that the Regents would have just let you go."

"Myka, wait!"

Helena panicked, almost tripping over a tangle of blankets on the floor as she darted out of bed and grabbed her wrist just as she reached for the handle. The next thing she knew, all of the air was being knocked out of her lungs as Myka slammed her against a thick, wooden door and she found herself in all too familiar position- with one hand wrapped neatly around her throat and the other, sans tesla, pinning her arm by her side.

It was the look on Myka's face that stopped her from even attempting to struggle. God, how she hated being the cause of such rage and sadness and guilt in those eyes, it was simply heartbreaking. Instead, Helena sagged in defeat, every emotion that she'd ever felt for the woman in front of her on full display, knowing that no matter what she said or how sorry she was for what she'd done it wouldn't change anything. She deserved this fate, whether it be at the hands of the Regents or the amazingly beautiful and equally brilliant Agent Bering, and though she knew it to be greedy of her she much preferred Myka's face be the last thing that she sees as she finally exited this plain of existence than the alternative.

Without thinking, Helena raised her free hand, desperately wanting to connect with her somehow and Myka tensed, flinching away from her. Fingers tightened around her windpipe, nails digging into her already bruising skin and the fringes of her vision began to darken, sending her gasping for breath that she knew wouldn't come. Still, she continued forward, inching toward the younger woman's face as if she were a scared mustang, until she felt a strand of soft hair slip between her fingertips.

The corner of her mouth flickered in a sad smile, a single tear sliding down her cheek, "I missed you."

It was nothing more than a whisper, a confession that was never supposed to see the light of day, but Myka's brow furrowed and her grasp wavered slightly.

Helena's heartbeat had already turned frantic, the strained muscle struggling to push what little oxygen that she had left in her body outward. It wouldn't be enough though, at best she only had seconds left, but she refused to be scared. No, she welcomed it. Only the innocent should be rewarded with a painless death.

Her eyes began to droop, the darkness calling her back for the final time, and it was then that she saw Myka break. Less than a second later she slid down to the floor, her legs too weak to hold her upright as she gasped for air, and without reason she was suddenly thrust back from the the brink and into a world in which she was certain that she didn't belong.

"W-why?" coughing, she begged for an answer, "Why did you stop?"

Myka froze, her eyes shimmering, "Helena..."

"Please," she wheezed, the sting surrounding her neck just as sharp as each tear that she shed, "Why?"

Helena felt a shuddering sob escaping her, confused and thankful and guilt ridden. Why wasn't she dead?

What happened next though, surprised her. Myka crouched in front of her, hovering over one of her outstretched thighs, and laid a hand upon her cheek. Helena tried to back away, refusing to meet her gaze, but hissed when the movement jarred her throat and the room seemed to spin around her.

"Helena," she whispered, "look at me."

She shook her head and Myka tried again.

"Look. At. Me."

Squeezing her eyes shut as hard as she could, only a few moments of silence passed before she heard an exasperated sigh and felt Myka's lips press against her own. It startled her. She wanted to pull back. Their first kiss shouldn't have happened like this, only seconds after one of them had tried to kill the other, she'd wanted to make it special. Myka deserved so much better. But, much like she'd hypothesized, the second that it started she never wanted to stop. She was ensnared, hypnotized by the taste of her.

She whimpered, giving way as Myka swept her way inside. It was a demanding kiss, nipping and taking what she wanted before soothing the pain away, telling Helena without words exactly why she wasn't dead. She was humbled by the act, relieved beyond words that at least part Myka had forgiven her. It would take time to regain the friendship that they'd once had, she'd accepted that long ago, but this- the desperation and the dominance- was her second chance and she wasn't going to bugger it up.

Carefully, Helena cupped her face, pulling her closer as she slowed the kiss. Initially, she was met with resistance, but soon enough Myka eased into the new, languid rhythm and she felt a bloom of hope spark inside her heart.

"Wait, stop," Myka gasped, breaking their connection, "This doesn't change anything."

Helena sighed, her brow furrowing with sadness as moisture welled beneath her lashes again, "I know."

A door opened down the hall and Claudia's quiet footsteps shuffled to a stop at the new guy's door where they heard her knock and start a teasing conversation with him before both of them made their way down the stairs.

"We might as well get this over with, then," she sniffled, wiping her cheeks dry, "Why don't you find those lovely handcuffs of yours, darling. I imagine Artie will be less inclined to tesla me if I'm already subdued."

Myka gawked at her for a moment, a hint of a smile curving her lips, before she snapped out of it and made her way over to the dresser. When she came back Helena stood, wiping off her pants, and held out her hands obligingly, wincing as cold metal snapped closed over her wrists. She'd expected to be dragged down to the dining room immediately, so when Myka paused, looking at her with an odd expression, she didn't know what to think.

"You really weren't lying, were you?"

Helena tilted her head to the side in question.

"When you said that you didn't know how you got here."

"Ah, that," Helena glanced down at the floor, a curtain of hair covering her eyes for a moment before meeting Myka's gaze, "The last thing that I remember is talking to you in your family's bookstore and after that... well, I must say, despite the circumstances, I was quite pleased to have woken up in bed with you this morning."

Myka frowned, but a pink hue bloomed on the apples of her cheeks and Helena dared to step forward, kissing her lightly one last time. It was a daring move, but it was over nearly before it started, and she would have regretted it if she hadn't at least tried.

"And, for what it's worth- I am sorry, you know," she whispered, their noses brushing as she leaned back slightly and looked Myka in the eye, "For what I did to you and the others, for the pain that I caused. You didn't deserve that, especially coming from me."

Myka gnawed worriedly on her bottom lip and simply chose to nod her head in acceptance, "Let's go."

"After you, darling," she said, grimacing as Myka tugged on the tiny chain between her handcuffs a little harder than necessary.

Willingly, Helena let her drag her off to the gallows, hoping that one day she'd catch a glimpse of the life that she'd woken up to that morning. A world where she was finally safe.

A world where she was surrounded by warmth.

End.


End file.
